A lion, gold star, and dolphin
by Watermelonsaregood
Summary: Crossover AU. Rosewood seems like a nice place, but Rachel can't help feeling a little homesick. (A love triangle between Faberry vs. Rachel/Emily.)


**Title**: A lion, gold star, and dolphin (1/?)  
**Pairing**: Rachel Berry/Emily Fields = Berrily vs. Faberry = Faberrily? (Purely a love triangle.)  
**Author**: boredblueberry  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Length**: 1,000+ (1,704)  
**Spoilers**: None  
**Summary**: Crossover AU. Rosewood seems like a nice place, but Rachel can't help feeling a little homesick.  
**A/N**: First time writing both a PLL and crossover fic. I was having a conversation with a certain friend (munchkinjenny05) and this ship just came up. :P We both agree that Rachel/Emily would be pretty cute.  
We'll say this takes place around Glee's 2x18 episode, "Born This Way", but everything in PLL's universe is completely AU. Alison's not around and neither is Maya.  
**A/N** 2: Ignore the character listing, Quinn has just as much of a chance of winning as Emily does. :P I may just eventually take votes.

* * *

"What?"

Everyone gapes at her in surprise- Rachel's always wanted that to happen, but only from hearing her vocal talent, not from her news of switching schools.

"You're moving!? Where?" Sam asks.

Santana tosses her nail file onto the floor. "When I said you should move to Israel..."

"Is this because I broke your nose?" Finn blurts, jumping out of his chair.

Kurt, Mercedes, Tina, and Artie seem too stunned to say anything, Puck frowns angrily, and sitting beside Finn, Quinn looks disappointed.

Mr. Schue tries to hush them, "Calm down, guys, let Rachel finish."

Rachel tries to speak, but her voice comes out wobbly, "M-my dad was transferred because of his job; we're moving to Pennsylvania, possibly Philadelphia, or maybe somewhere smaller. It's closer to New York at least...?"

"You'll be like, 500 miles away from us," Artie points out.

"What about Nationals?" Quinn says softly.

Finn nods, "We were so close to winning- what are we supposed to do without you?"

Poking helplessly at the band-aid over her nose, for once in her life, Rachel is speechless. What _are _they supposed to do? It's not her fault, and neither her choice, but she doesn't want to cause her fathers any trouble.

The bright side to this situation is that she'll be moving away from the bullying and slushies, while living closer to her dream city- but the only thing she'll miss desperately is Glee club.

"I'm sorry," Rachel murmurs, trying not to cry.

She really does cry when everyone surrounds her in a group hug. They're her friends now, but she doesn't want to say goodbye just yet.

* * *

Rachel takes care of two things before leaving; getting her deviated septum fixed and saying goodbye.

They have a going-away party that feels more like a funeral. Everyone apologizes for their mean behavior in the past and showers her with neatly wrapped gifts. It's weird when they're nice to her, but she would never complain about it. She feels like crying, but forgets about it when Puck brings out the drinks.

There's one person who hasn't apologized (yet). The one who was probably the meanest of them all.

Quinn stands around when they light the barbecue, purposefully avoiding the alcohol. She has a box of apple juice in hand instead.

"Hi, Quinn," Rachel greets her happily, like usual. She's not fully drunk yet, but close to somewhat tipsy. "Having fun?"

It doesn't look like it. For one thing the ex-cheerleader is frowning. "Hello," she mumbles coldly, "Yes."

Rachel sniffs, it's unlikely anyone remembered to bring veggie burgers. The smell of cooked cow carcass is heavy in the night air. Quinn sniffs, too, possibly from an oncoming cold. Both girls are silent. They're isolated from the rest of the group, drinks in hand as they lean against a tree.

She's always felt so tentative around the blond. It's hard guessing what Quinn might say next, and Rachel doesn't know what they mean to each other these days- though she would like to consider her a friend.

"I forgive you, for... you know."

Shrugging shyly, Rachel leaves it at that. It's sort of vain for her to expect an apology, but she's knows she deserves it after all the things Quinn has done to her.

Quinn suddenly snaps harshly, "Who says I'm sorry?"

Rachel swallows. "No one, but everyone else has already apologized, so I assumed-"

"Well, don't."

"'Don't' what?" she retorts.

It's difficult for her to talk back since Quinn's had so much power over her for years. But this might be the last time they ever see each other- unless one of them makes the effort to visit.

Quinn scoffs. "Don't... Ugh, just... _don't _forgive me when I haven't apologized yet, okay?"

"So you intend to apologize?"

This earns her a lip bite and the silent treatment. Quinn glances over at the rest of the group, watching as Finn flips a burger. She sips carefully from her juice, ignoring Rachel's giggle when she squeezes the box a little too tightly.

"Do you think you'll be happy without Finn?"

What kind of question is that? is what Rachel wants to say, but stops herself.

"I don't know..."

There's time to add more to that, but instead of speaking she just takes another sip from her beer.

"What kind of answer is that?" Quinn says, "Are you drunk?"

"No," Rachel immediately replies, "You just switched topics so quickly. And anyway, _you're_ his girlfriend, I should be asking _you_ that. Hypoth... hypo... _hypothetically_, if you were moving, would you miss Finn?"

Is she slurring by now? She can't tell.

Quinn sighs irritably. "Sure. But in reality I'll still be with him. _You're _the one that's moving- and drunk." She adds the last part quietly, "You won't even remember this conversation tomorrow."

The brunette waves away her words, "Details, details. I _won't_ forget, I'm sure. Anyway, I think the imp..._important_ question is: will _you_ miss _me_?" She nearly drops her can of beer as she points dramatically between them.

She's not expecting the question and it makes her jump slightly. "What?"

"Will... you... miss... me?" Rachel says each word slowly- and _loudly_, though thankfully, the others are partying too wildly to notice it.

"I'm not deaf," Quinn barks back. In annoyance, she throws her half-empty juice box towards the garbage bin- she misses, hitting Puck square on the butt. He turns, winking as he playfully shakes his fist at her. Is she the only one sober?

"And?"

She takes a good look at Rachel, at her big, brown eyes; innocent and puzzled. Quinn's own eyes move down, glued to the band-aid coming lose on Rachel's nose. It's fixed, so the band-aid isn't really necessary. Slowly, she brings her index finger to push it back down.

Quinn leaves her finger in place.

She pushes down gently with each word, "I... will... miss... you... Rachel..." she whispers, clear enough for only the two of them to hear. "I mean it."

And with that, Quinn turns around and joins the group, leaving Rachel drunk and dizzy. Her beer can falls from her grip, spilling onto the grass. _Can ants get drunk? _she wonders, watching the liquid dribble towards a nearby ant hill.

Hopefully she won't forget the conversation.

* * *

She's hungover when the Berry family packs into the family van. It's depressingly cloudy out, but that doesn't stop her from donning a pair of large sunglasses. Her dads aren't clueless, and so they end up stifling chuckles when she sits down.

"How was the party?"

"I've forgotten a few minor details, but it was fun."

They quickly sing goodbye to the house, then drive off. The ride to Pennsylvania is filled with impromptu sing-alongs, organic granola bars and other vegan snacks. Also a few Walmart bathroom stops (Rachel refuses to do her business in a filthy gas station).

Their final stop is a small town called Rosewood. Rachel must have spent most of the previous night researching the place, and while tiny, she doesn't mind it at first glance.

Her first day at Rosewood High School is tomorrow. She's not exactly excited, but manages to fall asleep quickly- on the bare mattress, surrounded by dozens of unpacked boxes.

* * *

The music room at Rosewood High is decent, and the glee club and choir have a better reputation compared to McKinley's. Though she has yet to meet any of either club's members.

After meeting the bland principal and saying goodbye to her dads, Rachel wanders around to try and find her first class. Rosewood High is roughly the same size as McKinley, maybe smaller. So far, it seems like a nice pl-

**Bump**.

It's a tiny nudge that easily sends Rachel tumbling to the floor. (She's always known how tiny and fragile she is, but this takes the cake.)

A worried "S-sorry!" is quickly thrown her way, the speaker/bump-er already at her side.

Rachel, trying to prevent a rambling session on hallway safety, finds herself stammering as well, "N-no, I wasn't looking-"

She's certainly looking now. Though _staring _is more accurate.

The person she's collided with is a girl- beautiful, tall, and athletic. She hurriedly fumbles to collect Rachel's textbooks and sheet music.

Before Rachel can even utter another word, a name pops into her head: _Santana? _They look similar enough to be related, which only makes her worry.

It's a new town and a fresh start. She can't blabber like usual and ruin the opportunity so soon. She doesn't know anything about the people here; how severe their rates of bullying are, whether or not they use slushies, and if any of these people have a single ounce of talent.

What if this girl is just as vicious and violent as Santana Lopez?

"Here you go," the girl says, holding out her books. "I don't think we've met before, are you new to Rosewood?"

She doesn't sound like Santana. If the same thing had happened back in Lima there would be nothing but curses in Spanish and bodies thrown against lockers.

Rachel blinks dumbly as the girl smiles warmly (something Santana rarely ever does). "I... Yes, thank you." She swallows, then continues, forgetting to hold back on her word count, "It's my first official day here at Rosewood High, my fathers and I moved in yesterday- um, I'm from Lima, Ohio- you've probably never heard of it, it's an incredibly small, really insignificant place, though personally I think of it as home... Oh, I'm Rachel, Rachel Berry."

_Way to go_, she thinks to herself, _you've sullied the opportunity to polish your acting skills by being yourself_. Actually, she feels good being honest in her first introduction, though it could have been a fun experiment to lie.

Surprisingly, the girl is still smiling. Most people would be turned off at finding a self-centered chatterbox.

By this time they're both sitting on the shiny linoleum floor, staring at each other stupidly. She seems nice, Rachel decides, nicer than most of her fellow students back home anyway.

"I'm Emily," she says as Rachel finally takes her books back. "Welcome to Rosewood. And trust me, it's even smaller."

It's a friendly sentiment, though Rachel feels the need to correct her-

"That's not what the brochure said."


End file.
